


Your Grace

by llavendergirll



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Downton Abbey Fusion, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Harry is a footman, M/M, Tom is a Duke, some internalized homophobia, this is corny corny corny, waaayyy ooc tom riddle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-10-07 15:06:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17368172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/llavendergirll/pseuds/llavendergirll
Summary: harry is a footman in a great house. tom is a duke who's come to this great house to make connections. and maybe the two meet and fall in love at some point.





	Your Grace

**Author's Note:**

> this is the self indulgent downton abbey au i've wanted forever and have finally been forced to write for myself so enjoy! this will be just as corny as you think it will be
> 
> also this was written from my memory of the show and how things worked so if some things aren't TECHNICALLY right don't sue me okay thanks

“Bloody hell, they can really draw out a dinner, can’t they?” Harry plopped down in the nearest chair in the dining hall. He let out a sigh and took off his glasses to rub his eyes.  
Ron snickered and drew out the chair next him, practically collapsing into it as well. “Yeah, well, they certainly get their money’s worth out of us.” He laid his head on the table and tucked it into the cruck of his arms. It looked like he intended to stay there for eternity, had Dumbledore, the butler, not walked in, forcing them all to stand for his arrival. Harry and Ron had been footmen in the notorious House of Malfoy for many years, and been best friends for just as long. Dumbledore smiled at them genially, and nodded at the entire staff to indicate they could sit back down. The chair across from Harry and Ron scraped back, and in it sat Hermione, the third of their trio. She was the senior housemaid, and well on her way to being head housekeeper if she kept at it, though her dreams were always elsewhere (namely, a position with a little more political say than a head housekeeper afforded).  
Dinner began to be passed around the table, and idle chatter filled the servant’s hall. Dumbledore and McGonagall sat at the head of the table, speaking to each other in calm voices. Harry turned to Ron and nudged his arm to get his attention away from staring at Hermione laughing with the maid to her left. “Want to play a game of cards after dinner? I’ve got a new deck.”  
“Uhh yeah, sounds good mate.” With that, Ron sucked him into a conversation about his twin brothers, who’d he’d seen recently on his day off when he’d gone to visit his family’s farmhouse. His brothers had just opened a shop in town, and it was doing pretty well, from what Harry garnered. Harry had always felt jealous of the Weasley clan, and of Ron. Ron had family to visit on his days off, and warm meals and laughter. Hell, Ron even had family here, at Malfoy Manor. His little sister, Ginny, had recently been taken on as a housemaid. Even though Ron complained about having to watch over her, Harry knew he wouldn’t trade it for the world. Meanwhile, on Harry’s days off, he usually just blew it in one of the local pubs.  
Harry’s parents had died when he was an infant, and the aunt and uncle who raised him shipped him off to Malfoy Manor as soon as he was old enough to be a hall boy. He had no lingering feelings of affection for them, and he was sure they more than felt the same. 

The next morning, Harry regretted staying up with Ron. After dinner, the two had stayed up until the early hours of the morning, playing cards and joking. Now, Harry was paying for it by simultaneously trying to comb down his hair and button his livery. He rushed down the stairs to the servant’s hall two at a time, pushing hall boys and maids out of the way, yelling sorry to the indignant shrieks that followed him. All that mattered was that he was almost late to the family’s breakfast, and even though Dumbledore was forgiving, and had a soft spot for Harry in particular, he wouldn’t let an absence like this slide. He just barely avoided knocking into the assistant cook and made his way over to the head cook, Mrs. Sprout. She gave him a disapproving look and shoved a serving tray into his hands, “Get on! Mr. Dumbledore will be waiting!” Harry quickly nodded and jogged up the stairs to the dining hall, where he saw Ron already standing beside the dishes the family served themselves out of. Fortunately, none of the family had made an appearance yet, and Harry let out a sigh of relief. “Mate, your cheeks are redder than my hair,” Ron looked pleased with himself and Harry rolled his eyes.  
“Well, if you had woken me up on time this wouldn’t have happened, you complete arsehole!”  
“I hope that’s not vulgar language from my footmen,” Harry and Ron froze as the low voice hit their ears, and they spun around to see Dumbledore standing behind them, with a slightly disappointed look in his eye. “I do hope that was merely a slip of the tongue, and will not be a recurring event, Harry.”  
“Yes, sir. My apologies.”  
“Very well. Be prepared, the family is coming down soon,” Dumbledore started walking away, only to turn and look at Harry again, “And please, Harry, calm down. Your face is as red as Ronald’s hair,” With the sound of Ron’s laughter accompanying him, Dumbledore strode out of the dining hall. The last thing he heard was the sound of a slap and a loud “Ouch!”

When Harry walked into the servant’s hall, he saw Ron sitting at the table, protected by Hermione and Ginny on either side. Harry let out an exasperated sigh, “Oh, for love of… I’m sorry Ron! I wouldn’t have done it if I had thought would be a complete baby about it!” At the scandalized look Hermione gave him, he assumed that was the wrong thing to say. He pulled out the chair across from them and crossed his arms over his chest. “Listen Ron. I really am sorry.”  
Ron looked up and met his eyes, and nodded at him, removing his hand from his cheek, which was still slightly red. “It’s okay. I forgive you.” His eyes lit up as he remembered a message Dumbledore had delivered that morning. “Hey! You missed it! This morning, Dumbledore told us we’re expecting a new guest to arrive tomorrow!”  
Harry shrugged his shoulders as he reached for a cup of tea that Mrs. Sprout had placed on the table, “So? We get new guests all the time. This place is like a bloody hotel.” Ginny snickered at that, and Hermione cracked a smile, so Harry figured he was okay in their books again.  
“No, but this guest isn’t any normal guest. He’s a Duke!”  
Harry’s eyebrows shot up at that. “Seriously? What’s he got to do here?”  
“Well, I overheard Mr. Dumbledore and Ms. McGonagall talking, and it sounds like they think the Duke is going to try to get his Lordship to agree to fund some of his political campaigns,” Hermione piped up.  
“What kind of Duke is he anyway? Why’s he in politics?” Ginny directed this question at Hermione, figuring she would be the one to know.  
“The Duke of Slytherin, I believe. The title is extremely old, but everyone thought the line had died out generations ago. It seems like this guy just popped up out of nowhere with a claim to the line. His name is Tom Riddle, I think,” Hermione supplied. “Well, whoever he is, I doubt it will matter much to us downstairs whether he wants to spit on us or join us for tea,” And with that, Harry downed the rest of his drink and stood up. “I’m going to ask Winky for some food since I missed lunch, anyone want anything?”

The next morning at breakfast, the servant’s hall was packed with whispers and speculation, ranging from, “ _Oh, I bet he’s handsome_ ,” to “ _Do you think he can_ really _talk to snakes? I mean, that's the myth, right?_ ” Harry snickered when he heard that last one, and decided that was his personal favorite. He began to tuck into his breakfast, at least until a commotion caught his attention in the doorway. To his surprise, it was Ron and Hermione, and it looked like they were involved in a pretty intense, very _private_ discussion. At least, until Ron practically shouted “And I love you, dammit!” and strode away from Hermione. The entire hall was silent, and everyone stared at Hermione, open-mouthed. It stayed like this for a few moments until Dumbledore walked into the room. “What’s going on here?” He looked at the maids until they looked away, and Hermione darted to her seat. Harry was the only one who managed to cough out a, " _Nothing, sir._ "  
Dumbledore let out a sigh and moved to the head of the table, “Now, the Duke will be arriving in approximately an hours time. I want the entire house to be there to welcome our guest. Is that understood?” Clear “ _yes, sirs_ ” answered him and he nodded. “Very well, make sure you are all presentable,” With that, he left the room. Harry turned his attention to Hermione, who hadn’t looked up from her dish since she’d sat down.  
“Hermione, you should eat something,” He whispered to her. She nodded and began to pick at the toast on her plate. “It’ll be okay. I bet everyone will forget about what happened as soon as the Duke shows up, yeah?” With that, she looked up at him let out a little smile. He sent a big one back, trying to figure out what the _hell_ he’d been doing while Ron was falling in love with Hermione. 

Standing stiff as a board, Harry tried to subtly scratch the itch that had been eating at him since they’d been lined up out front to await the Duke’s arrival. Dumbledore didn’t want to chance the Duke showing up and seeing them hanging around like slobs, so they were instructed _no movement at at, breathing only, if necessary._ But, _hell,_ his back was itching like crazy. Harry chanced a look at Dumbledore, to see if he’d catch his attention. Confident his scratch would go unnoticed, he reached behind him and tried to subtly rip through his _fucking_ clothes. “Mate, calm down. Dumbledore will see you if you start spazzing any more.” So not as subtle as he thought. He looked at Ron standing next to him, and wondered if this was the moment to broach the subject of Hermione. Harry hadn’t seen his best friend since his outburst earlier, and was worrying about him.  
He had just opened his mouth to speak when he heard the telltale creak of the iron gates at the front of the property, and braced himself for one last inspection by Dumbledore. After quickly sweeping down the lines of servants, Dumbledore nodded to himself and got into his appropriate place in line, next to McGonagall.  
The family stood opposite them, with Lord and Lady Malfoy up front. Next to them was Lord Malfoy’s son and heir, Lucius, accompanied by his wife and son, Narcissa and Draco. While Harry didn’t exactly love the family, he couldn’t help but be fond of the family he had served all of these years.  
A motor car slowly circled round on the gravel and pulled up in front of the large doors leading to the grand entrance hall. The chauffeur got out and opened the door for a figure sitting alone in the back of the car. Harry couldn't wait to set his eyes on the Duke, and he was sure everyone else felt the same. _Perhaps he_ can _talk to snakes. What if he_ looks _like a snake? With slits for his nose and a bald head and-_  
Oh Jesus, he was hot.  
Like, _unfairly_ hot.  
The Duke of Slytherin had a tall, lean stature, clothed in a fine wool suit and shining shoes his valet probably _spit_ on. His hair was wavy, and parted to one side like many men wore it, and on his face was a charming smile Harry was sure would make Lucifer beg for forgiveness. The Duke opened his mouth to speak, and while Harry couldn’t hear what he was saying, he could certainly hear the deep baritone of his voice when he spoke.  
Now, Harry wouldn't describe himself as, as _odd_ or anything, but if he thought of men once in awhile, well, didn’t everybody? Just because he had never felt the same way about a woman didn’t change the fact that he _might_ , ya know, one day. The family swept the Duke inside after the greetings were exchanged, him without even sparing a second glance at the servants who had been waiting patiently for him. Ron let out a little huff at that, his mood clearly already sour. After the family and their guest were securely inside, McGonagall led the rest of the servants to the back of the house where the servants entrance was kept. 

As Harry and Ron ascended the steps to the dining room for dinner, Harry wondered if the Duke would be as handsome up close. He wondered if he’d smell good. He wondered if he’d smile up at him as Harry held the tray out for him and if he-  
“Do you think Hermione and I would make a good couple?”  
Harry was broken out of his daydreaming by Ron’s question. “What?”  
Ron stopped on the stairs and turned to look at Harry, “Don’t pretend you didn’t see what happened earlier. It’s just that... Do you think she likes me?” Ron’s voice sounded almost defeated. It made Harry pause and consider the fact that he hadn’t been a very good friend, and he wasn’t just talking about slapping Ron the day before. No, he was talking about the fact that his friend was _in love_ with his other friend and he hadn’t even noticed.  
He put a hand on Ron’s shoulder and squeezed, “Mate, I think she’d be crazy not to.”  
Ron looked at him with a huge smile on his face. “You think so?”  
“Absolutely.”  
“Well, I mean, look at me. How could she resist this?” Ron gestured to his body, and Harry groaned. They began to move up the steps again. Just before they left the staircase, Ron turned to Harry and said, “And Harry? Don’t think I didn’t see you drooling earlier over the Duke. You were practically panting.”  
Harry stopped, completely shocked. How had Ron noticed? Had he really been that obvious? His fear must have shown in his eyes, because Ron leaned in close and said, “Don’t worry, mate. Your secret is safe with me. I’m just happy I’m not the only one who likes somebody.”  
Harry cautiously asked, “Why?”  
“So when you tease me about Hermione, I can tease you about Riddle.” Ron smiled at Harry, and Harry felt his shoulders relax at the thought that his best friend was on his side. Perhaps he what he was, wasn’t something to be ashamed of. He threw an arm around Ron’s shoulders and hoped that conveyed the amount of appreciation he felt in that moment. 

As Harry held the tray a platter of food on his arm, a million thoughts raced through his mind, but the most pressing was whether he was capable of holding his arm steady enough for the Duke to retrieve his food without making a fool of himself. He took a deep breath before moving to the left side of the Duke and leaning down beside him. The tray hovered a moment before the Duke moved to grab the tongs on the side of the platter. The rest of the family was talking amongst themselves, discussing things Harry perhaps would have been interested in hearing if only he didn’t have the most handsome man he’d ever seen breathing next to him. “And… _what_ is this?” Harry started and almost dropped the tray he was holding when the deep baritone voice he had heard earlier murmured in his ear. He froze, wondering if the Duke could really be talking to _him_ when--”Hmm, have I gotten myself a mute footman? Shall I ask someone else?”  
Harry made a choked noise and finally realized _yes_ it was him the Duke was speaking to. “No, Your Grace, uhh, I believe it is a salmon tartar that his Lordship is rather fond of.” Harry turned his head, towards the Duke, jerking to a stop when he realized how impudent it would be to make eye contact with the man. A chuckle sounded beside him, and Harry couldn’t help himself. Tom Riddle was distracted with putting the tongs back on the platter, and Harry risked a look. Up close he could see the man’s flawless skin and the slight quirk of his mouth, Harry assumed it was directed at him for amusing the man. He gulped, aware that even though his back was beginning to ache from being bent in an uncomfortable position for so long he would hold it forever for the Duke if he only asked.  
To Harry’s surprise and shock, the Duke turned to look at Harry, right in his eyes. The quirk dropped from his mouth as he met Harry’s eyes, but Harry barely noticed that. All he could see was the cool gray of the man’s eyes, and how they stayed locked on his for what felt like a lifetime.  
A small and polite cough snapped the both of them out of their trance. The Duke quickly turned back to his plate and snapped up his fork and knife. Harry straightened so fast he thought the tray might fly out of his hands. He looked up and made eye contact with Narcissa, who was seated across the table from the Duke. A small, amused smile flitted at her lips as she looked at Harry, then coolly looked away to turn to her husband.  
Harry quickly moved to Draco, who was seated next to the Duke. He didn’t chance looking at him again all throughout dinner. He couldn’t risk it. That didn’t mean that he couldn't listen to his lovely voice while he served the sauce and the dessert and stood to the side while the ladies stood up and walked out to the drawing room. As he and Ron left the dining room, in a burst of courage, he looked over his shoulder and found the Duke’s eyes pinned to him over Abraxas Malfoy’s shoulder. Harry scurried away, pushing at Ron’s back to get him to go faster. “What the hell are you doing?” Ron whispered furiously.  
“Go, just go,” Harry whispered back, and being the good friends he was, Ron hurried them into the drawing room where the ladies were already seated and starting to play a game of cribbage. They hurried over to a table in the corner that held drinks and glasses and began to pour out alcohol of various types. As they began to serve, Narcissa stood and walked over to the couch on the other side of the room. Harry gulped and walked after her, waiting until she was seated to lower the tray and offer her a drink. When she didn’t immediately grab one, he raised his eyes and saw her staring at him. “My Lady.” He addressed her.  
She hummed, and slowly took a glass off of the tray. She turned her head towards the fireplace, and Harry slowly stood, anxious to get away but also anxious that she not know that. He began to turn around when he heard a small laugh escape her lips. He turned to look at her. She cocked her head at him and said the most damning thing she could have ever said.  
“Big dreams for a little footman.”

After the drinks were served and they were released for the night, Harry practically ran up to his room. As soon as he got there he slammed the door shut and collapsed on his bed. _She knows, dear God, she knows. She knows and I’m going to get fired._ A knot formed in his stomach and he curled himself into a little ball. He hoped when Ron came in he wouldn’t ask too many questions and just assume Harry was tired. He rolled onto his back and dragged his hands down his face. What would he do? He really, _really_ , didn’t want to lose his job.  
He _couldn’t_ lose this job. It was all he had, the only home he’d ever really known. The only family he had was here.  
He’d do whatever it took to stay here, and if that meant avoiding the Duke at all costs, then that would be what he did. 

The next morning, Harry was up at work early and still firm in his resolve that saying anything other than “ _Yes, Your Grace_ ” or : _No, Your Grace_ "to the Duke would end in his downfall. After breakfast, he was less firm, but still doing okay. The Duke brushing past Harry at his post by the breakfast table _definitely_ weakened some of his barriers, but he was still going strong. When Dumbledore informed him that the men were going to do some hunting and he and Ron were expected to serve a luncheon to them, Harry pleaded a stomachache and offered to polish the silverware instead. Dumbledore agreed, and so Harry spent the afternoon in the servant’s hall, polishing candelabra after candelabra. Unfortunately, this gave him plenty of time to think about things that he most definitely did not want to think about.  
However, Harry was in pretty good spirits. That’s why, when Dumbledore requested he set out Lord Malfoy’s evening clothes, as his valet had gone into the village for the afternoon, he thought nothing of it. He did not consider the fact that His Lordship’s room was indeed _very_ close to a certain Duke of Slytherin’s room. He did not think about the fact that the would soon be returning from their hunting trip, and that the Duke would perhaps be in the hallway, looking absolutely breathtaking in only a white button up and trousers, with his jacket hanging at his side. When Harry saw him, he knew he had nowhere to go. To run away would be insulting to the Duke, and would reflect poorly back onto the Malfoy family. Harry moved to the wall, and inclined his head as the Duke walked past him. “Your Grace,” Harry muttered. The Duke walked a few steps further, and Harry nearly let out a sigh of relief. That, however, was short lived. The Duke turned on his heel and walked right up to Harry. It was then that Harry noticed the man’s height. Unfortunately, Harry had not been gifted in that arena, and the Duke towered over him. He gulped and asked, “Is there anything I can assist you with, Your Grace?”  
Warm fingers touched his chin and tilted his head up so he was looking into the gray eyes of the Duke again. His head was tilted to the side, and quietly, he spoke, “What is your name?”  
“Harry, Your Grace” He moved to incline his head again, but the fingers under his chin remained. He looked at the Duke’s face. It was still much too handsome, even though it was terribly flushed. Harry assumed it was from having been outside.  
“Harry,” The Duke all but purred. “How did you begin working here, _Harry_?”  
“I, uh, I began here as a hall boy, many years ago.”  
“And gradually made your way up to footman?”  
“Yes, Your Grace.”  
“And are you hoping to be a butler one day, like old Dumbledore.”  
Harry’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head at the thought of ever referring to Dumbledore as ‘old Dumbledore’. He let out a chuckle at Harry’s expression. Harry let a small smile of his own appear on his face, though his heart was racing ( _what if they were caught what if the Duke thought him insolent what if-_ ). “So, Harry, are you parents in service?”  
Harry’s felt what little smile he had disappear immediately, and he pushed against the fingers holding his chin up so that he could look down at both of their shoes. “No, Your Grace. Unfortunately, my parents have been dead for a very long time.” When that got no response, he quickly stuttered out a “Your Grace,” and a quick bow, and made to leave the hallway. However, he was only a few feet away when a hand grabbed his wrist. Harry immediately paused, wondering what the Duke would say to him now. Probably reprimand him for walking away.  
“I apologize for my rudeness. I should not have asked. I’m sorry about your loss,” Harry turned to look at him. When their eyes met, for once it was the Duke who looked away. The Duke gulped, and for the first time, Harry didn’t think he looked like a Duke. He looked like a young man named Tom who was worried. Tom’s hand still grasped his wrist, and it suddenly squeezed, “My parents, too, have passed away. Although I was not particularly close with either of them, I still miss them,” He turned to look back at Harry, who was struck with his confession.  
“I didn’t know my parents well, either. They both died when I was only a year old. After that I went to live with my aunt and uncle.”  
Tom smiled a bit, “At least you other family to go to.”  
Harry averted his eyes, “Yes, but…” At his pause, Tom squeezed his wrist again, and Harry let out a little smile, “Well, they weren’t the kindest. They didn’t particularly want to take me in. They were the ones who sent me here when I was 11. I can’t say I miss them though.”  
A softness was in Tom’s eyes that made Harry’s heart ache. He moved closer to Harry, so they were nearly chest to chest. “Is it positively horrible that I feel comforted by the fact that we have had similar experiences?”  
“Not at all,” Harry all but whispered. Suddenly, the dressing gong rang, announcing that dinner was to be served soon, and Harry practically jumped. Tom let out a chuckle, and before Harry could move, Tom raised Harry’s hand and brushed his lips against them. Harry was frozen in surprise. With a smirk, Tom let go of Harry’s hand and began to walk backwards towards his room. “Until dinner?” He called.  
Harry nodded weakly, and at that, Tom let out a huge smile and turned into his room, shutting the door behind him. 

When Harry practically ran into the servant’s hall looking flushed, Ron looked at him with concern. He prodded, but Harry kept saying, “I’m fine! Really!” So he dropped it. That was why Ron was his best friend. Harry knew if Hermione had been there she would have kept pestering him. As it was, she had been avoiding entering the servant’s hall day, for fear of the gossip that surrounded her encounter with Ron.  
They had a few minutes until dinner started, so they settled down at the long table in the hall to chat a bit.  
“So, have you spoken to Hermione?” Harry asked cautiously.  
“A bit, yeah. I mean, not about what happened. Every time I bring it up she runs away screaming, so we haven’t really discussed anything deeper than the weather.”  
Harry resolved to speak to Hermione the first chance he got. Maybe he could glean how she felt about Ron then.  
Harry opened his mouth to tell that to Ron, but Mrs. Sprout’s voice broke through and called them to the kitchen. They stood up and stretched, walking to the kitchen and straightening out their livery. They picked up their individual trays and started the long trek up to the dining hall. They didn’t talk much, each consumed with his own thoughts. Ron was surely thinking about Hermione and what to do, and Harry was thinking about Tom and how he could possibly act normally around him after their earlier meeting.  
When Harry started his walk around the table to serve, he saw his worrying was in vain. Tom Riddle was not at the table. Immediately, worry pooled in his gut. Had he left because of Harry? Was that were he had gone? Harry dreaded the thought he would have to suffer through the rest of the meal until he could get down to the servant’s hall and ask everyone where the Duke had gone. That was until he looked up and caught Narcissa’s eye, who had apparently been staring at him for God knows how long. While still making direct eye contact, she loudly asked, “And where may the Duke be tonight? Does he grow tired of our presence already?”  
Harry quickly turned around so the family could not see his face. The voice of Abraxas Malfoy answered her, “He informed me that he would not be joining us for dinner tonight. He fears he may over overexerted himself while hunting and wanted to rest.”  
The tension left Harry’s shoulders. He was still here. Harry didn’t know if that was a good thing or not.  
The rest of dinner progressed smoothly, and they retired earlier than normal. Harry and Ron were journeying down to the servant’s hall when they heard Dumbledore’s voice call out their names. They paused and turned around, seeing Dumbledore striding towards them, “Hello boys, I was wondering if one of you would volunteer to fetch the Duke’s dinner tray from his room.” He smiled genially at them. Quickly, thoughts of what may happen if Harry entered Tom’s room alone raced through his mind. He opened his mouth to decline, when Ron beat him to it, “Harry would love to. He was just saying he needed more exercise.” Harry turned to Ron, an affronted look on his face. Ron only winked at him.  
“Is that true, Harry?”Dumbledore turned his twinkling eye on him.  
Harry cleared his throat. He couldn’t exactly say no now, could he? “That is in fact true, sir, yes.”  
“Well then, off you go. Don’t keep his Grace waiting.” He waved Harry off, and walked past them onto the steps to descend to the servant’s hall. Harry waited until Dumbledore had disappeared from view to smack Ron in the arm, “What the bloody hell is wrong with you? Why would you go and do that?”  
“I thought you liked the bloke! I thought I was doing you a favor!” Ron rubbed his arm with a pout on his face.  
“No Ron, you most certainly did _not_ do me a favor.” Harry rolled his eyes and began to walk up the stairs before Ron caught his arm and dragged him back.  
“Why not? What happened? You were crazy over him before!” Ron stared into Harry’s eyes, trying to find something there. Suddenly, his eyes widened, “He didn’t hurt you, did he? I’ll fucking kill him, I will. If he touched-”  
“No Ron!” Harry put his head in his hands in exasperation, “Ron, that’s not it. I just don’t think it’s a good idea for me to go around flirting with a Duke, okay? I’d like to keep my job.”  
“I don’t think you’ll lose your job because you ogled the hot guy upstairs, okay? Just go.”  
Harry nodded and began the trek upstairs. Just before he exited in the hallway, he heard Ron shout from below, “Have fun!” He let out a short laugh at that. Ron always knew how to lighten his mood. The walk to Tom’s door was short, and the light knock on the door was even shorter. Part of him hoped the Duke would be asleep so he could sneak in and out without catching his attention. Unfortunately, a low, “Come in,” sounded from behind the door, so he slowly turned the knob and peeked through. From his view, he could just see Tom lounging under the covers on his bed, reading a book. When no one came in, Tom looked up at the door and asked a bit louder, “Hello? Is someone there?” Harry decided to suck it up and finally walk in. He was still looking at the Duke when he came in, and he could see the smile that lit up Tom’s face when he recognized him. “Harry. I’m so happy it’s you that’s come up.”  
“Your Grace, I’ve come to collect your tray if you’ve finished.” Harry remained standing by the door, not daring to go further into the bedroom. Tom removed the covers, revealing the green silk pajamas he wore. He picked up his dinner tray and carried it over to Harry, who quickly walked to retrieve it. “You didn’t have to do that, your Grace. You should let me fetch it, especially if you’re feeling ill.”  
“Oh, but I’m not feeling ill. Not anymore.” Tom leaned in close to Harry’s face and whispered, “And please, cease with this ‘your Grace’ business. I prefer Tom. From you, at least.” He tugged the tray out of Harry’s hands and placed it on the vanity that sat in the room, then gestured to the accompanying chair, “Please, sit.”  
“Are you sure, your G- I mean, Tom?”  
He smiled at Harry’s slip, “Yes, Harry, I’m very sure. Please.” Harry gingerly sat on the edge of the cushion while Tom sat on the end of the bed facing him. For awhile, they both just sat there, Harry nervously wringing his hands and looking about the room, and Tom calmly looking at Harry.  
Eventually, Harry couldn’t take it anymore. “So, are we just going to sit here?”  
Tom smirked. “Why? Would you… like to do something else?”  
Harry flushed at what Tom was insinuating. He knew the man was joking, but still. “No! I just mean, can’t we talk or something?”  
Tom’s smirk eased into a much kinder smile. “Of course, darling. What would you like to talk about?”  
“Oh, uhh, I don’t really know. Anything I guess.” They continued to sit in silence for another minute while Harry thought of something to say.  
A low “Harry,” broke him out of his thoughts. He looked up and Tom said, “Come here.” Startled, Harry stood. Quickly he said, “Your Grace, I don’t-”  
“Tom.”  
“What? Oh, yes, Tom. Um, are you sure? Tom?”  
“Yes, Harry. I’m very sure. Please.”  
Harry gulped and slowly walked over to where Tom was sitting on his bed. He inched down until he was perched on the edge of the bed. Tersely, he sat. He raised his eyes to meet Tom’s and he was startled to find them much closer than he’d anticipated. In fact, Tom himself was much closer than he’d anticipated. He moved to scooch away when Tom put a hand on his knee to stop him. “There’s no need to go anywhere, Harry.”  
Harry couldn’t even manage to choke out a response. Suddenly, Tom was leaning in closer. _Oh, hell_. His eyelids fluttered shut as Tom’s lips grazed his, just barely. His hand moved up to cup Harry’s face, and he began to stroke his thumb along Harry’s jaw. When Tom’s lips returned, more sure this time, Harry’s eyes popped open. _No, no, no, no_.  
He jumped up and scrambled away, panting. Tom quickly stood and reached for Harry, trying to calm him down. Harry pulled out of Tom’s grip and turned to face him. “No! This is wrong! This, this is...” He let out a sigh and ran a hand through his hair, making a mess of his combed hairstyle. “We can’t do this.” “Harry, please, calm down. I’m sorry, I thought-” “Tom, just stop! It’s not okay. For so many reasons, what we’re doing is not okay! It’s dirty and wrong and I shouldn’t even be here!” Without waiting for Tom’s response he ran out of the room. He could hear Tom’s footsteps coming after him, but Harry was too fast. He quickly made his way to the servant’s staircase and ran up the stairs. Soon enough, Harry was completely alone. He walked down the hall that led to his room and collapsed in his bed as soon as he saw it. He could barely control the sob that tore it’s way out of his throat. He heard the door open and footsteps enter. He froze, fearing that Tom had chased him all the way to the servant’s bedrooms. The footsteps came closer to Harry’s bed, and a hand laid itself on his arm. “It’s okay, Harry. I’m here.” Harry let out a sigh of relief when he heard Ron’s voice. He began crying again, this time in the comfort of his best friend’s arms. He cried until he had a headache, until his throat hurt, until his face was red and swollen. And still, Ron held him. The last thought that crossed Harry’s mind before he fell asleep that this was what it must be like to have a family. 

At breakfast the next morning, Harry was sullen. Hermione tried to get him to talk, but Ron quickly gestured for her to give him some space. He knew Ginny and Hermione were whispering about him, trying to figure out what was wrong and how they could help. After he and Ron finished, they headed upstairs to start serving breakfast to the family. Harry couldn’t help but tense when Tom walked in. Part of him wanted to apologize and plead with him to understand, another part knew that it would be best if he left things as they were last night, and ceased to interact with the Duke at all.  
Harry noticed Tom was quite silent during breakfast. His baritone could scarcely be heard for more than a moment before he directed his attention back to his breakfast. As the family finished, Tom stood and gathered everyone’s attention to him. “I’m sorry to say this so suddenly, but I fear I’ve gotten urgent news and will need to leave this afternoon to return to my estate. My apologies for being rude. You’ve all be such gracious hosts.”  
Harry froze. He couldn’t believe Tom was actually leaving. And it was probably because of him and what he did. Harry faintly heard that Tom would be catching the twelve o’clock train. When breakfast ended, Harry walked out of the dining hall in a trance.  
He and Ron sat down in the servant’s hall, Ron looking at him with a guarded expression on his face.  
“Are you sad he's going, Harry?”  
Harry looked at Ron and tried to feign confusion, “Why would I be sad? I barely even knew him…”  
“Well, I’m not saying you were in love with the guy, but you certainly cared about him a bit. Now, I don’t know what happened last night, but do you think you should go talking to him about it before he’s off? I doubt you’ll ever see him again.”  
“Do you think so? I doubt he’d even want to see me. Last night was... so embarrassing.”  
“Harry, I doubt you noticed, but he kept looking at you all through breakfast. I think it’s safe to say he would really like to see you.”  
Harry thought about it. Perhaps it would do him good to see Tom before he left. He could apologize and then he could go back to pretending that nothing had ever happened. Yeah. That’s good.  
“Maybe I will,” Harry stood up from the table, and nearly walked out of the hall when he quickly turned around and said, “Listen Ron, I know I haven’t been a great friend lately. But please know, I really do appreciate you.”  
Ron smiled widely. “I know. Now, go talk to your man. And when you’re back, I’ll tell you all about how things are going with Hermione!”  
Harry let out a laugh, “Agreed.”

Standing outside of Tom’s door this time was almost as nerve wracking as it was last night. Again, when he knocked, a low voice uttered, “Come in.” Harry walked in and saw Tom folding up a shirt and placing it in a suitcase. Tom clearly hadn’t been expecting him, because when he saw Harry, his hands fumbled with the shirt and his face froze. Neither said anything. Of course, then they both decided to speak at the same moment, each beginning with, “I’m so sorry-”.  
Then they both stopped, confused as to why the other was apologizing. Tom spoke first. “Harry, I’m so sorry that I pressured you. I thought you were interested and I feel so ashamed that I made you so uncomfortable.”  
“No, Tom! I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have run away last night without explaining anything. And now you’re leaving, and it’s because of _me_ and-”  
Tom walked over to Harry and grabbed both of his hands. “Harry, darling, it’s not because of you I’m leaving. Unfortunately, something really _has_ come up, and I need to return to my estate. Believe me, if it were anything less urgent, I would have stayed, at least so we could have sorted this out properly,” He brought a hand up to Harry’s hair and slowly ran his fingers through it. “Harry, please tell me the truth. Are you.. Interested? In me? Or in men at all?”  
Harry swallowed the lump that had grown in his throat at those words. He didn’t know if he could say it. As each second passed, he saw the light in Tom’s eyes fade, bit by bit. Eventually, Tom stepped away, sighing and turning back to his suitcase.  
“I do.”  
Tom’s back tensed. He whipped around, meeting Harry’s eyes. “Oh darling, tell me you mean it.” He walked back over to Harry and grabbed his face in his hands.  
Tears filled Harry’s eyes, happy tears. He let out a laugh and grabbed onto Tom’s wrists. “I do, I do mean it.” Tom leaned forward a pressed a kiss to Harry’s cheek. “Tom, I find I haven’t stopped thinking about you since you came here.”  
“And I think that’s the best thing I’ve ever heard.” Finally, Tom tilted his head down to meet Harry’s lips. Tom’s lips were soft against Harry’s. Harry’s arms came up to be around Tom’s neck, and Tom’s hands rested on Harry’s waist.  
A delicate cough startled them. They frantically separated and looked at the doorway. There stood Narcissa. Though her features remained frozen, her voice came out much warmer than Harry had ever heard it, “I’ve come to tell you the car will be leaving soon. I suggest you… make yourselves presentable,” With that she shared one last look with both of them and closed the door behind her. They each let out a sigh. Tom leaned his forehead against Harry’s and closed his eyes. “Harry, I wish I didn't have to leave right now. Will you promise to write to me?” Tom pulled away and looked at Harry fondly, before moving to Harry’s jacket and straightening the lapels. Harry smiled and covered Tom’s hands with his own. “Of course I will. Your Grace.” Tom’s laugh sounded throughout the room, and Harry knew then, that that laugh was the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard.


End file.
